"Zeta Flight, you are cleared for launch."

"Roger, Sinkhole Control. See ya'll in an hour."

"Five seconds. Four, three, two, one, launch."

Commander Albin Rusgry was thrust back into his seat as his craft, followed by five others, was shot out of the Sinkhole's hangar. Before the momentum imparted by the launch tractors could fade, he twisted his throttle to full and accelerated into open space. Once Zeta Flight was clear, the bulging wedge of the Interdictor hesitated a moment, then seemed to leap forward in a blur of motion as it entered hyperspace. The six TIEs executed a graceful, precise turn until they were heading towards the slowly swirling red gases of the Murrian Nebula.

"Zeta One to Zeta Flight," Rusgry said, paying no attention to the awe-inspiring sight of the nebula. "Form up for patrol, line abreast." At his command, the TIE fighters lined up wing to hexagonal wing and spread out over a distance of almost four kilometers.

"Sir, we will be entering the nebula in one minute," one of the other pilots reported. This perimeter was somewhat arbitrary; wisps and tendrils of gas were already brushing past their fighters.

"Very good. If the Rebels are hiding in there, as we believe, they'll have no advantage; their shields will be useless. However, the nebula will also interfere with sensors. You'll need to use visual scanning. Keep a sharp lookout." Rusgry glanced at his own scopes and saw that they were already having some difficulty in picking up Zeta Six, at the far end of the line.

For twenty tense but uneventful minutes, Zeta Flight held a course ever deeper into the nebula. The pilots were constantly straining their eyes, trying to see any black specks or silvery glints that might be a Rebel ship or starfighter.

"Zeta One, this is Zeta Three. We're coming up on our turnaround point."

"I copy that, Three," Rusgry replied, relaxing a little. "Zeta Flight, prepare to reverse course. On my mark..."

"I'm hit, I'm hi..." Zeta Six's startled cry was cut off by a burst of static. In the same instant, Zeta Five reported, "Sir, X-wings! Three, no, six coming in!"

"Break NOW!" Rusgry ordered, pulling his fighter out of formation and trusting his wingman to follow. Zeta Five also started to turn, but too slowly. Two laser bolts from an X-wing's quad shot blew his TIE apart. Rusgry saw the flash and cursed.

Abruptly an orange laser bolt flew past the cockpit of Rusgry's fighter. He pushed his yoke quickly to the right and then forward, narrowly avoiding two more shots that flashed by overhead. There had been no warning light on his HUD; either the nebula was absorbing the pulses of the Rebel targeting sensors, or they weren't using any.

"I've got two on me," a panicked voice crackled in his headphones. "Where'd they come from?"

"Calm down, Two," Rusgry said firmly as he lined his TIE up on one of the X-wings. He squeezed both triggers, adding, "Eat vacuum."

As Rusgry's lasers sliced deep into the X-wing's unshielded port side, it shuddered and abruptly shot off to the left in a flat spin, fuel venting from a ruptured engine. Rusgry glanced at his flickering CMD, which reported that the X-wing was heavily damaged. He then looked up at his scopes just in time to see the yellow blips of two dumb-fired missiles closing fast from the rear. He yanked back hard on his yoke. One of the missiles slammed into his ship and exploded. There was a tremendous crash and then nothing.

Rusgry awoke to find himself lying on his back. Every part of him seemed to hurt, but especially his head. The overhead lights stabbed daggers through his eyes as soon as he opened them; he shut them again tight and groaned. The sound summoned a medical droid to his side.

"Just lie still, sir." The 2-1B was programmed to be polite to all its patients, whatever their political affiliation. "You have a severe concussion, as well as multiple lacerations, edema, and frostbite from exposure to vacuum. You've been in a bacta tank for the last three days. You are lucky to be alive."

"Where am I?" Rusgry managed to mumble.

"You are on board the Medical Frigate Salvation. Is there anything I can get you, sir?"

"Yes," Rusgry croaked. "Alliance Intelligence."

The next few days were a haze of pain, drugs, and interrogation. Rusgry drifted in and out of consciousness. Men in unfamiliar uniforms came to question him often. He was not really aware of the passage of time, only that his strength was gradually returning.

[Starboard Hangar, CRS Independence]

Rusgry felt the shuttle touch down with a gentle bump, distractedly admiring the pilot's skill. He still could not believe how readily the Rebels had believed his story. If he had tried to sell the same story to his Imperial masters, he would still be in interrogation -- but here he was, on the deck of the Rebel flagship itself. Not for the first time, doubt crept into his mind. Would he fail his captain? Was this too early?

"All personnel are to disembark by the forward ramp."

Rusgry got up, slinging his kit bag over the shoulder of his crisp new Alliance uniform. He was the last of the passengers to leave the shuttle. The techs and other crew he had traveled with lined up in front of an officer and trudged away to their assignments. He looked around the hangar with a practiced eye, noting the mix of the familiar and unfamiliar. Snubfighters were lined up neatly in their stalls, while a few crewmembers cleaned and checked the equipment. One of the landing bay's computer terminals was blank and had wires hanging out of it; a technician was working on it. He was about to go to one of the working computer terminals for directions, when a young lieutenant walked up to him and snapped to attention as smartly as any Imperial officer.

"Sir, the Admiral wishes to see you immediately. Follow me."

Chapter 1

[Simulation Centre, FRG Regis]

Flight Officer Steve "Schmitty" Michadick blinked as the canopy of his simulator opened, letting in the harsh glare of the simulator room. His eyes began to adjust to the new light levels as he climbed out and pulled off his helmet. He groaned, then snapped to attention as an all-too familiar figure approached.

"At ease." Lt. Commander Neill "Ranger" Magill said. "You did well in there today; your score is 6000. As usual, do not discuss the exercise with any of the other Trainees who have not yet completed it."

"Thank you, sir." Schmitty replied, relieved that he had completed the exercise despite a few very close calls. "Is there anything else I need to do today?"

"No but Lt. Murshid has some exercises for you tomorrow. Dismissed."

Moments after Schmitty left the room, one of the other simulators cracked open to reveal another Red pilot with lieutenant's pips on his flight suit.

"You didn't get him. Getting rusty?" Ranger joked.

"First one today. Last one too," Mark "Redjed" Hagues promised. "You shouldn't teach them evasive maneuvers if you want me to get them all the time. Schmitty pulled a few good ones."

"You get to fly against the new guy, Sentinel, next. Maybe he can outfly you too." Ranger grinned. "He'll be here in a minute, you'd better get back in your sim."

"The things I do..." Redjed grumbled as he hit the switch to drop the canopy again.

[Captain's Ready Room, FRG Regis]

Captain Gideon Daly leaned back in his chair, looking around the comfortably familiar interior of his ready room with pride as he considered the recent activities of the Regis. Being part of the force that had taken out the ISD Wisp had earned the Regis some well deserved recognition, as had the recent raids in the Core. After a long quiet spell in the Outer Rim, it was good to be back in action. Now that the Regis had been reclassified as a combat-ready training vessel, it seemed likely that they'd see more in the near future.

Daly turned his attention again to his desk terminal, which was displaying a recent Intelligence summary. As usual, it was a combination of the vague and the trivial; things which he, as an Alliance captain, was cleared to know. What intrigued him most were the continued reports of the diversion of Imperial fleet assets and supplies from their usual posts. Daly was convinced, and Intelligence seemed to agree, that it all pointed to something big. So far, however, the picture remained incomplete.

He squinted at a warning that the SSD Executor, last reported to be leading the search for ex-Admiral Zaarin, had left the fleet three weeks ago and had not been seen since. How do you lose a Super Star Destroyer? he wondered before the door chimed for attention. "Come."

Appropriately, the visitor was Major Faulkner, the ship's Intelligence officer. "Good afternoon, sir. Here's the data you asked for." He laid a datapad on the captain's desk.

Daly leaned forward to pick it up and skimmed through it quickly to the conclusion, his frown deepening. "So we haven't been putting more pressure on these sectors?"

The major shook his head. "Nor are these resources and fleet assets being redeployed to other sectors where we've made recent gains, as you suggested. And they don't seem to have been directed into the hunt for Zaarin. " Daly smiled briefly at the scorn in Faulkner's voice. Even if the man had turned his back on the Empire that raised and trained him, he still had very firm ideas about loyalty. Zaarin had not betrayed the Emperor out of idealism, but purely for his own greed and ambition, and that plainly irritated the former Imperial Intelligence operative. "In fact, we still don't know where it's all going. Zaarin's attacks and ours combined don't add up to this level of resource depletion."

"What about shipbuilding? Perhaps they're assembling and supplying a new fleet."

"Actually, shipbuilding is down almost 6% across the Empire. There's a half-completed SSD sitting at Kuat; it hasn't been touched in a month. All the work crews got pulled off it and shipped off to parts unknown."

"Interesting." Daly mused over the new information for a few seconds. "Very interesting. Anything else you'd like to add to the summaries I've been reading?"

"Nothing concrete. I'm mainly going on my gut feelings on this at the moment."

"Very well, keep me posted."

"Aye, sir."

[Citizen's Mug, FRG Regis]

Sean "Leo" Healey looked at his Sabacc cards, then at the pile of credits on the table. "I'll see your three and raise you ten," he said confidently.

"I'm out." Mario "Phoenix" Rodgers set his cardchips down, wistfully looking at the pot. "Too rich for me."

"It's just you and me then," Lt. Commander Rob "Kyp" Cashman observed casually. "I'll raise you fifteen."

"Ah, you're bluffing, like you've been all night." Leo grinned, glancing at Kyp's rapidly dwindling pile of credits. He threw some chits into the centre of the table. "Just so you don't lose too much, I'll call." He set his cards down face-up, spread to show their values. "Sabacc."

Phoenix and Kiki oohed. Kyp sighed, the picture of defeat. Leo's grin got bigger as he started to reach out to shovel the pot toward him. Kyp coughed and began to place his cards down in order. "Looks like I've been…." He turned over the last card, his voice getting louder, "…getting the only hand that beats yours!"

Leo's grin faded. He looked at Kyp's cards in disbelief: the Two of Flasks, Three of Sabers, and the normally worthless Idiot, making an Idiot's Array. "Damn," he breathed.

"You're still even," Kyp consoled. "Look at Phoenix and Kiki here; they must have lost a week's pay each!"

"Don't remind us," Kiki groaned. "I should have quit when I was ahead."

Kyp chuckled. "The least I can do is buy you all a few rounds, to put my winnings to good use."

[Bridge, FRG Regis]

Ta'aba Jemol, the Regis's Executive Officer, paced slowly up and down the bridge. All was quiet, too quiet for his tastes. He craved action against an Imperial foe, so that he could avenge those he'd known in the slave camps and bring the day of his world's liberation closer. The recent strikes against the Empire's heart had been a good step in that direction. The war was finally beginning to turn and he wanted to finish it as quickly as possible.

He knew that other members of the crew would welcome a brief respite, however. Red Squadron was still recovering from the many sorties they'd flown and people lost during the raid and, before that, the destruction of Red Base. Though he seldom mixed with the Red pilots, he recognized their pain; he'd seen too much not to. They were still showing off, of course, but without the same bravado as before.

An alarm sounded at the sensor station. As Jemol swiveled an eye in that direction, the operator on duty checked his console and reported, "Sir, a large ship just dropped out of hyperspace on the far side of the moon. I can't get a positive ID, but it masses enough for a cruiser, or an Impstar."

Jemol's blood quickened. "Scramble the sprint flight. Put the ship on alert. And then get the Captain to the bridge."

Chapter 2

Sazril "Yale" Murshid pushed his X-wing's throttle to full and burst out of the Regis's hangar, already scanning nearby space for an enemy. Although the scrambling of the sprint flight usually meant that action was imminent, he saw nothing. He frowned, then keyed his mike on the tactical frequency. "Regis, this is Red Thirteen. What's the story?"

"We've detected a large vessel exiting hyperspace on the far side of the larger moon," answered the cool voice of Lt. Kristy McCall, the Regis's communications officer. "You are to scout the area and report back."

Yale looked down to his CMD and saw the indicated moon flashing. Smoothly turning his ship onto its new course, he looked over his shoulder to see his wingman Keith "Nash" Rikli had pulled into formation with him. The Regis rapidly dropped away behind them as they headed towards the moon.

"Go to low-level flight. I want to stay hidden as long as possible."

"Copy that."

The two X-wings dove toward the gray-green moon and pulled up to skim the surface at a height of less than a hundred meters, dodging around jagged hills that rose into their path. Nash swallowed as the barren moonscape blurred by underneath his fighter. He had to put all of his concentration into flying; one mistake and he could be a new crater. A bead of sweat ran down his face as he jinxed up to avoid a particularly high crater wall.

"Okay, we can go up now," Yale finally said. "I'm starting to get a reading on the ship. No sense in being caught down here when they detect us." Nash wondered how he could sound so calm flying at this altitude. He managed to double click his mike in reply. Yale's X-wing shot up towards space and Nash followed his maneuver a second later. The cinnamon-brown orb of Nydus III rose swiftly above its satellite's curved horizon.

Yale checked his sensors. The reading was becoming clearer as he got higher. Suddenly four blips appeared, approaching the moon from the other side.

"Sabre flight to unidentified craft. Power down immediately!" a harsh voice commanded over the comm.

Yale threw his ship into a rolling dive towards the oncoming fighters, his reflexes shifting into combat mode. Nash followed close behind. "This is Red Flight. Sorry, no can do," Yale said with no trace of actual apology.

[Bridge, FRG Regis]

Captain Daly was anxious. It had been seven minutes since the alert, and three since the sprint flight had rounded the moon and entered its comm shadow. If there had been no trouble, they should be reporting soon. But if he didn't hear from them, the rest of the squadron would have to be launched.

"Sir, we are getting a transmission from our pilots," McCall reported.

Daly moved quickly to the comm station. "Red Flight, report."

"Sir, target is the CRS Independence, repeat, target is friendly. Admiral Ackbar requests permission to come aboard."

[Captain's Office, INT Sinkhole]

Captain Chew had turned the lights down, making the Imperial grey of the walls even more cheerless than usual. It reflected his mood as he wondered about the fate of his friend and comrade. Was Rusgry truly dead, as Chew himself had announced to the Sinkhole's pilots a week before? Or had he found a way to survive and carry on with the bold and desperate plan they'd hatched together? If Albin didn't contact him soon, he'd have to make his own opportunity. With an Admiral breathing down his neck, looking for any excuse to relieve him of command permanently, he had nothing to lose.

His life, once so certain, was now anything but. He had accepted the reprimands, the transfers, the promotions that went to more ambitious and politically-connected officers, always secure in the faith that he was serving the Emperor's will and the greater good of the Empire. But - and this had been the hardest part for him to acknowledge - if the Empire continued to reward ambition over service, betrayal over honor, and senseless cruelty over maintaining peace and order, then was it truly worth serving?

He thought of his crew. He had always respected and rewarded loyalty and he knew that he could count on at least a third of the men to follow him. Perhaps another third were merely indifferent; conscripts, or those marking time and hoping for a transfer to a more glamorous and exciting post. The remaining third, those who would oppose him, included all of the Sinkhole's stormtrooper complement and several of the junior officers. He had already arranged transfers for some of them, and worked out ways to deal with the rest. It was time to put those measures into effect.

Chew sighed heavily. Whether he succeeded or failed, the reputation of his ship would be further tarnished and his own utterly destroyed. For once he was glad that he had never married. No family would suffer in his place.

[Briefing Room Three, FRG Regis]

Kelly "Zoom" St.Clair, Red Leader, arrived at the small briefing room to find three others waiting for him: Captain Daly, a stranger in a pilot's duty uniform with commander's pips, and Admiral Ackbar. He snapped to attention and saluted. "Sir!"

"At ease, Commander," the Mon Calamari admiral said. "This is an informal briefing. Please have a seat." Zoom did so, taking one of the remaining chairs around the table. He glanced at the other two officers, but Daly's expression was as unreadable as the newcomer's.

"You're familiar with Interdictors, of course." Ackbar touched a control and the holoprojector in the center of the table hummed to life, projecting a ghostly image of one of the wedge-shaped craft. "The Empire has been using its Interdictors wisely so far, keeping them out of harm's way for the most part while their escorts mix it up. They have effectively blockaded systems, and sometimes entire sectors, leaving us with a difficult choice. With our limited forces, we have to defend either our supply convoys or our bases and outposts. When these are attacked, we run out of supplies or are crushed easily. Either way we lose."

Zoom nodded slowly. He'd never really thought about the strategic implications; as a pilot, all he knew was that having a dragship in the system was bad news, whether it had just pulled you out of hyperspace into an ambush or was keeping you from jumping out.

"The Alliance has managed to gain some knowledge of the technology behind the gravity well projectors, but we do not have the resources to actually manufacture them. But it has recently come to our attention, thanks to Commander Rusgry," he indicated the unfamiliar officer, "that the captain of one of the Interdictors wishes to defect. This is, of course, a tide we cannot resist."

As both of Zoom's eyebrows went up, Daly said, "I assume that we will be part of the task force sent to escort the Interdictor."

"Captain, the Regis will be the escort," Ackbar declared.

Zoom gulped. "Sir, with all due respect, isn't this a mission more suited to a Cruiser group? Especially given the importance of the mission." He looked over at Daly, who looked even unhappier, if possible.

"Most of the fleet is being gathered for an operation of greater importance. You would have been briefed on it now, if this mission had not come up. We cannot spare any other ships until this operation is over. It seems as though the best fish come during a storm." Ackbar turned to Zoom, blinking his large eyes slowly. "Commander, I know your squadron is not at full strength. However, you will have Commander Rusgry attached to Red Squadron for the duration of your mission. He is an accomplished pilot in a variety of Imperial craft. I'm sure he will adapt to some of our fighters quite easily." Splitting his attention again he continued. "He will also be invaluable in your search for the Interdictor as he knows the Captain personally."

"Search?" Daly asked.

"My capture has moved up the timetable," Rusgry replied with a shrug. "The circumstances of my capture also mean that Captain Chew may not know whether I'm alive. We'll have to find the Sinkhole and let him know that we're the... distraction he's been waiting for."

"So we're going in with no backup, no information, and no assurance that this Interdictor won't just blow us all out of the stars?" Zoom asked quietly. The tension in the room became palpable.

"Commander, I appreciate your concerns," Ackbar reassured, his watery eyes looking sad. "I have weighed the risks against the potential gains. I believe that obtaining an Interdictor for our own uses is worth it. The rest of the fleet will be engaged in an undertaking no less vital, and no less dangerous. If the Force is with us, we will both succeed at our tasks."

Zoom caught up with Rusgry on his way out the door. "Commander, a moment of your time?"

"Certainly." Rusgry started to turn, only to be slammed up against the far wall of the corridor. Zoom kept him pinned there as he smiled humorlessly.

"I just remembered where I heard the name Sinkhole before. It was at Red Base. You son of a bitch."

Rusgry recovered his wits quickly. "I was doing the same as you, Commander: protecting my ship and following orders."

"Don't give me that 'I was following orders' pudu," Zoom snarled. "I'm SICK of hearing that excuse from you Imperials. If someone gives you an order to blow up a civilian transport, does that make it right?"

"Commander St.Clair, stand down," Ackbar ordered sternly.

"NO, Admiral!" Zoom shook his head fiercely. "This... man was part of the attack on our training platform. We lost good people there. Some of them were just kids."

"They were soldiers, Commander, or learning to be," Rusgry replied unflappably. "I lost comrades at that battle too. Some of them probably died under your guns. But I don't hold that against you. If you give me an order, I'll obey."

"Okay, here's an order. Stay the hell out of my sight." Zoom pushed off from Rusgry's shoulders and glared at the startled Ackbar. "If you say he comes along, fine. But no way does he get in one of our fighters, not while I'm Red Leader. And I want a guard outside his door." To Rusgry, he added, "That's to protect you, when some of my pilots find out who you are."

Rusgry simply nodded. Zoom curtly saluted the admiral again and stalked off.

Ackbar sighed. "This reef is never an easy one to cross; it always wounds those who try. I apologize, Commander."

"No need, Admiral. I knew I'd face this." Rusgry looked down the corridor again. "Besides, everything he said was true."

Chapter 3

[Two weeks later...]

Lieutenant Iddo "Wire" Geva collapsed onto his bed, still wearing his flight suit. Every part of his body seemed to ache from the latest futile recon sortie, looking for that damned Interdictor. Even in zero-gravity, six hours in the confines of an X-wing's cockpit, unable to move more than a few centimeters, was terribly uncomfortable. And the worst part was, he had another mission in eight hours.

At least he could sleep now. But how could he be so tired just from sitting still? Finally, the fatigue of the last few days slowed his thoughts and he drifted into unconsciousness.

[Squadron Commander's Office, FRG Regis]

Zoom sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Not only did he have to take his share of the recon sweeps, he had to read the reports afterward. So far, there wasn't much to report except that encounters with gunboat patrols were increasing. Evidently someone had noticed Rebel starfighters nosing around in an otherwise quiet Mid-Rim sector. It was only a matter of time before a patrol located the Regis, and then all hell would break loose. If we don't all collapse from this schedule first.

In many ways, it was unpleasantly like being back in the Core: the same constant tension and fear of discovery, the same punishing series of sorties. On that operation, however, the danger was more obvious and the targets easier to come by. Here, the object of their search remained elusive. They were looking for one ship in over fifty systems, and that was if Rusgry's information was true and the Sinkhole's patrol assignment hadn't been changed in the month since his capture. Another difference was that during Operation Blue Harvest, he and Captain Daly had explicit orders to cut and run when things got too hot. This time they were expected to remain in the area until they found trouble, or it found them. Or both.

Zoom looked up as the door chimed. "Yeah?"

The door slid open to admit Ranger, who slid into a chair without bothering to salute. "Hey. Wire and I just got back from a patrol, and he almost cracked up putting his fighter down on the deck. I'm not feeling too sharp myself. If we keep this up much longer, we're going to start having fatalities - in combat, or just plain accidents."

Zoom nodded wearily. "Got any good news?"

"Well, the Training Wing is getting along nicely, especially our newest additions. The way things are going now, some of them might even have enough flight time to be combat ready when we do find the Interdictor. And I checked Rusgry out in the simulator for As and Xs..."

Zoom sat up straight. "You what?"

"I put him in a simulator," Ranger replied slowly and deliberately, "and he did fine. Look, Kelly, I have as much reason to hate the guy as anyone. But he's a skilled pilot and right now we need him, badly. Besides, it's not like he's the only ex-Imperial in the squad; there's Assassin of course, and Leo, and now Sentinel. I think you should give him the same chance they got."

Zoom chewed on that for a minute. "Okay, I'll consider it. In the meantime, put the cadets you think are ready on the rotation for recon. And if we don't find the Sinkhole in another ... twenty-four hours, I'll cut back the patrols."

"Fair enough."

Captain Steve "Rapier" Naylor couldn't feel his legs anymore. If he moved them they hurt, but he couldn't really tell they were on the pilot's chair of his X-wing. His feet certainly didn't know if they were on the pedals. It was his fifth hour on this mission; his senses were starting to dim and his alertness to dull. He knew this from long experience, but he also knew that there was not much he could do about it. Extended missions like this did that to a being, and boredom was one of a pilot's worst enemies.

Rapier looked over his shoulder and confirmed that his wingman's fighter was still in its proper place. "How are you doing back there, Hijack?"

"I feel like I've been sealed in carbonite up to my neck," Hijack replied moodily. "Other than that, just fine, sir."

Two gunboats chose that moment to drop out of hyperspace about one kilometer behind and slightly above the two X-wings. It was difficult to say which set of pilots was more surprised. The Imperials hesitated for a second, then they opened fire, filling the void with emerald energy.

That moment of grace was all that Rapier needed. "Hijack, roll out!" he shouted as he pushed down on his stick. The dive became a roll as he looped around, trying to bring his guns to bear on the enemy. A few shots grazed his shields but did not penetrate the outer layer he'd built up.

Hijack was not as experienced, quick, or fortunate. Laser fire pounded his shields down and chewed into the rear of his fighter. His lower left s-foil was severed and went spinning away as that engine surged, then cut out. The X-wing went into a drunken wobble that probably saved his life with its sheer unpredictability. Hijack banged at his console, trying to rebalance the shields as he fought the controls.

Rapier had completed his tight loop and now his lasers answered those of the gunboats. The Imperial fighters broke in different directions, each trying to avoid his deadly accurate fire. But Rapier had the perfect angle and he continued to fire quad bursts into the belly of the gunboat he'd chosen to take first. As its shields and engines died, the pilot tried to eject. The fireball of his craft caught up with him. Rapier turned away, pursuing the other.

Two minutes later it was all over. Hijack looked around his damaged cockpit. The weapons control panel had exploded when his s-foil came off, showering his side with fragments. He reached below him for the emergency medical kit and started to stop the blood trickling down his face as he waited for his astromech to finish its damage assessment.

"Hey, Luke," Rapier called to the pilot of the wounded X-wing. "Are you still with me? How does it look?"

"Pretty bad, sir. My weapons are out, lasers and launchers too. Shields will be back in two minutes. My CMD is flickering a lot. Hyperdrive seems to be OK; I'm losing pressure on the coolant line, though. Must have a slow leak." He was a little surprised to note how calm he was. His fingers, stiff inside his pilot gauntlets, fumbled with the medkit. "I've got one too, a slow leak that is. Give me a second to take care of it."

"All right. Link your computer to mine and then we'll do a slow jump back to the rendezvous point. If your motivator starts running hot, let me know right away."

[Imperial Patrol Base AFY - 936]

"Sir?"

Major Denorin had been contemplating the view out his office window, which included one of the platform's three hexagonal landing pads. He turned to regard the young lieutenant who had just entered. Children, he thought, I command children - eager to please, certainly, but still green. He wondered briefly where the more experienced officers had been going to recently. "Yes, Lieutenant."

The lieutenant clicked his bootheels smartly together and held a datapad out for his commander to take. "Sir, Mu Nine and Ten are two hours overdue."

At least they know the discipline, the major thought. He consulted the datapad. "Lt. Gabra's flight, eh? Very well. Give him another hour and then if he still hasn't reported in, divert one of the other patrols to check out his assigned area."

[Bridge, INT Sinkhole]

The bridge of an Imperial ship of the line was always a busy but quiet place. Chew surveyed it with pride, tinged with regret, as his crew efficiently went about their tasks. The regret was for what he was about to ask them to do, and the risk he would put them all in. The last thing he wanted was to become one of those arrogant commanders he so despised, heedlessly ordering men to their deaths for his own selfish purposes.

He'd just received important news - not a message from Rusgry, but something almost as good. Rebel starfighters had been sighted in the area several times in multiple systems over the last week. Ships in this and neighboring sectors were advised to be on alert. Chew dared to hope that his friend might have them out looking for him. And even if that's not the case, this may be the best chance I will have to make contact myself.

He stood thinking for a few minutes more. Some of the bridge officers exchanged looks. They had noticed that their Captain had been brooding a lot recently. At last he stepped forward and spoke. "Navigator, set a course for the Chax system. I want best possible speed there." He turned and left the bridge, his step brisk.

Lt. Argos, the Sinkhole's tactical officer, rechecked the patrol schedule. No, he wasn't mistaken; the Chax system was not on the list. He made a mental note to inform the Admiral about this as soon as he could get some time unobserved at the comm station. Before he'd been assigned to this ship, he'd been told that any information he could pass along about Captain Chew's activities could help his chances for promotion. And he very much wished for an increase in grade and a posting to a Star Destroyer, or maybe even one of the new SSDs. Staying on an Interdictor was a good way to dead-end your career. Just look at Chew.

[Briefing Room Three, FRG Regis]

Captain Daly looked worried, but not surprised, as he listened to Rapier's report. Ranger, Zoom, and Rusgry were also present. Damned inconvenient, but I suppose it had to happen sooner or later, the Regis' skipper thought. We're lucky it wasn't earlier, or that it was in deep space instead of a system with a garrison.

"All right," he said when Rapier had finished talking. "We have at most twelve hours before they figure out that we destroyed those gunboats and start the search for us in earnest. We then have perhaps another twenty before they find us." He turned to Red Leader. "Commander, we have to intensify our search."

Zoom opened his mouth, shut it, then finally spoke. "Sir, I was about to cut back our patrols. Our pilots are flying on vapor. I don't know how much more we can take, especially if we have to fight."

The conference room fell silent as they all considered the implications.

"I've got that list of cadets you asked for earlier," Ranger said, pushing a datapad across to Zoom. "If we pair them up with an experienced wingleader, we should be able to...."

"Excuse me." Rusgry waited until he had everyone's attention. "I think we should try the Chax system."

"Why?" Daly inquired. Zoom just looked at him suspiciously.

"It's the rally point that we, Captain Chew and I, arranged when the Sinkhole was ordered to this sector. It's on the edge of his patrol area, but he can go there without arousing too much suspicion."

"And why didn't you see fit to mention this before?" Zoom wanted to know.

"Because I had hoped that we would have already found the Sinkhole with these sweeps," Rusgry replied reasonably. "And I knew that they wouldn't be at Chax until there was an alert, which is now the case." He smiled at his hosts. "Well done."

Zoom started to rise, only to be restrained by Ranger's hand on his shoulder. "Anything else you'd like to tell us?" he gritted.

Rusgry thought briefly. "No, can't say as there is."

Ranger turned back to Daly. "Sir, what do you think?"

Daly considered Rusgry for a long moment, then keyed the intercom built into the briefing table. "Bridge, this is the Captain. Plot a course to the Chax system."

Chapter 4

It was nightwatch aboard the ISD Inquisitor when the call came in, and Awlas was in his quarters. The insistent beeping of the intercom roused him from sleep, one of the few places he'd been able to find some peace in the last month. Groaning, he rose and staggered over to the comm panel on the wall. "This had better be VITALLY important," he snarled.

The man on the other end, a very nervous Lt. Commander Eton, stammered an apology. "But sir, you did ask to be told immediately if there was any news about the Sinkhole."

Irritation faded, replaced by predatory interest. "Go on."

"We have a report from one of our informants on board. Captain Chew has ordered the Sinkhole out of its assigned patrol area, into the Chax system."

Awlas propped his arm against the wall and leaned on it, deep in thought. What was Chew up to? The man wasn't stupid; stubborn and insubordinate, certainly, but not stupid. He wouldn't abandon his post, knowing that it would give Awlas the satisfaction of court-martialing him once and for all. Therefore, there had to be some reason for this unexpected action.

Could he have received new orders? Awlas dismissed that thought immediately. He was still in command of this fleet, even though his failure to capture that Rebel platform - a setback for which he fully blamed Chew - had cost him almost all of the favors he'd saved up. Damn the man... he couldn't just destroy his own career, I have to pay the price for his mistakes as well. Since the Interdictor was attached to his Star Destroyer group, any orders for her captain would have come to him first.

Awlas shook his head; he would figure it out in the morning. "Anything else?"

"Actually, sir, there is. Sector command has declared an alert condition as a result of all the Rebel activity lately. We've been asked to help search for a possible new base in this sector. It wasn't marked as flash traffic, Admiral, so I thought it could wait."

He nodded tiredly. Troubles never came alone. Not only did he have to deal with Chew, but the Rebels as well... Suddenly, a jolt ran through him and he gasped aloud. "No, it can't be that. He wouldn't dare..."

"Sir?" Eton asked.

"Set course for the Chax system, immediately," Awlas ordered, composing himself. "Contact the rest of the fleet and tell them to join us there. And have someone make me a pot of caf. I'll be right up."

[Hanger, FRG Regis]

A bored Lt. Jax Elison watched as the two returning A-wings touched down on the deck. While he was proud to be doing his part for the Alliance, he wished it was in a more active and exciting capacity than the Regis's Personnel Officer, or in this case, errand boy. But he knew he didn't have the stuff to be a starfighter pilot, and his marksmanship scores were abysmal. So he was stuck with a desk job when he really wanted to be a soldier, like his father and grandfather - to carry on the family tradition and avenge their deaths at Hoth. Still, at least he was aboard a combat vessel.

The A-wings had powered down now and deck crew were helping the pilots out of the small cockpits. Elison stepped aside for a moment to let a tech pass, then approached the fighters.

"You did well out there today," Ranger was saying to Flight Cadet Jason Carrillo, Jace to his friends, as the latter rubbed at his aching arms and legs. Both pilots looked up as Elison stopped in front of them and saluted.

"Sirs, the Skipper wants to see you both. Please follow me."

Zoom looked up to see Ranger, still wearing his flight suit minus the helmet and chest life-support unit, enter the main briefing room. Jace was two steps behind him. Daly, who'd been talking with Zoom at the podium, waved the pilots to seats in the front row.

"Welcome back. Please have a seat." Daly said. "We want you to be in on the planning for our insertion into the Chax system. We have a tentative plan already; your job is to see if you can rip it apart, so that we can improve it. Time is short; we'll be there in three hours."

"Chax system, sir?" Jace asked.

"That's right, Carrillo," Zoom replied. "We finally got a lead on that Interdictor. We were just waiting to recover the last of our patrols, which was you. Since you're Ranger's wingman, you get to sit in. Now, here's the plan..."

Ranger listened as the plan was explained, every now and again pausing to make a quick note on a datapad. Then he started a run down on his thoughts about its weaknesses, offering some possible solutions to these. After about an hour of this, they pronounced the plan sound... at least until contact with the enemy.

[Bridge, INT Sinkhole]

Chax III filled the starboard side of the bank of viewports, a chilly and uninhabited rockball with a thin atmosphere and a single moon, circling an unremarkable star. That sun was rising now over the curved horizon. First a glowing crescent appeared, stretching halfway around the planet; then the star itself came into view with a burst of light that caused bridge officers to blink and the viewports to darken slightly. The distant orange-yellow orb detached itself from the horizon and began its steady march to port. In less than an hour it would set again behind the Interdictor's stern.

Captain Chew suppressed a yawn. Watching the sun rise and set over a new planet had been novel at first, then routine, and now - after eleven orbits - it was positively tiresome. He hadn't really expected a Rebel fleet to be waiting for him when he arrived, with or without Rusgry aboard. But the longer he waited, the more he wondered if they would turn up at all. The yawn returned and this time he let it come.

The watch officer, Lt. Argos, noticed the gesture. "Sir, have you been up here since the last watch came on?"

"I suppose so, Lieutenant. Why?"

"Well, sir..." Argos hesitated; what he was about to ask was technically a breach of protocol. "That's almost fourteen hours. Shouldn't you get some rest?"

"Mm, you're right," Chew replied. If he was offended, he didn't show it. "Very well, you have the con." He levered himself out of his command chair and saluted formally before walking to the rear of the bridge, managing not to hobble despite the stiffness in his legs.

Argos watched him go, his own face carefully blank. The old fool. Surely even he could recognize that every hour he spent in this empty system was another shovel of dirt on his grave.

On the edge of the system, not far from the lonely ex-comet that was Chax's outermost planet, a pair of A-wings emerged from hyperspace and dropped to merely remarkable speed. After communicating briefly with each other, the pilots transferred their laser energy to engines and sensors while keeping their shields charged as they proceeded into the system.

Two hours later, Chax III entered the range of the sensors of the small, fast, agile craft. There was another short conversation, this time with low-power transmissions; then both wedge-shaped fighters changed course to angle away from the third planet before engaging their hyperdrives again. They flashed into nothingness and were gone.

[Bridge, ISD Inquisitor]

"Twenty minutes to Chax, Admiral," the navigator announced.

"Very good," Awlas purred, the swirling blue glow of hyperspace playing across his features. "When will the rest of the squadron arrive?"

"The Heinous should arrive ten minutes after we do, Venom in thirty minutes, and the Valiant within an hour, along with their pickets," another officer reported. "Vendetta is finishing off a smuggler base on the other side of the sector. Her captain estimated their arrival in three hours."

Awlas pursed his lips and nodded. "Dismissed." It was fewer ships than he would have liked; after the debacle, some of his force had been transferred to other battle groups. But it would be enough. Unconsciously he continued in a whisper. "I have you now!"

[INT Sinkhole]

It seemed that he had just laid down in his ready room, not daring to go all the way to his quarters. Only just closed his eyes. He was wide-awake now, though; the alarm klaxon had seen to that.

Chew started to run towards the bridge, straightening his uniform as he went. The sight of two stormtroopers flanking the blast doors, though familiar, was more frightening to his guilty conscience than the alarm... but neither of them so much as moved as the doors hissed open and he stepped onto the bridge. "Report!"

Argos turned. "Captain, four X-wings and two Rebel assault transports have come out of hyperspace at a range of one hundred thirty-five kilometers. I've ordered the gravity-well generators powered up." He smiled in anticipation. "We seem to have caught them by surprise, sir. Should I tell our fighters to launch?"

Chew peered at the tactical display. "No, don't bother. Not yet. Keep the generators at stand-by, ready to engage along their exit vector if they try to escape."

Argos was slightly disappointed. "As you wish, sir. They'll make good target practice, then."

Chew nodded as he moved to his command chair. Behind him, other senior officers - his men, he thought with relief - had begun to file onto the bridge. Without sitting down, he pressed the intercom button on one arm of the chair. "All hands, this is the Captain. Our patience has paid off; we have found a Rebel raiding party. We will engage them. May the Force be with us. Chew out."

Argos gave the captain a confused look. The Force? What in the Emperor's name was he talking about?

Ranger was tense. After only a few hours of rest, he was back in the cockpit again, flying lead with Leo on his right wing. To his left, escorting the other ATR, were Yale and Redjed. Ahead, the long spearpoint of the Interdictor grew ever larger against the backdrop of Chax III. He hated the idea of flying straight into the turbolasers of a fully-operational capital ship, especially this one. If this turned out to be a trap after all, there would be no escape for any of them. At least they haven't launched any TIEs. That's an encouraging sign.

Leo's astromech, a red R2 he'd named simply "Lil' Leo", swiveled his metal dome and twittered a question. Leo read the translation and nodded. "Yeah, I've got a weird feeling too, like I've seen that ship before. I'm gonna punch it up on my CMD." What he saw made him shout in alarm.

"Hey, Ranger, that's the Sinkhole! Isn't that one of the ships that..."

"No chatter, Six," Ranger said quickly.

"But...!"

"I said no chatter." Ranger set his jaw. His voice was icy. "I know what ship it is. You've got your orders; stick to the plan. Two out."

[Bridge, INT Sinkhole]

"Captain, a word?"

Chew looked down into the crew pit at the man who'd spoken: Commander Maxell, a fine officer who would have had a ship of his own by now if he hadn't locked his course to Chew's. Maxell had been leaning over the shoulder of the sensor operator. As the captain approached, he looked up and lowered his voice. "Sir, we've identified those assault transports. According to their transponders, they're the Albin 1 and Albin 2." Maxell relayed this development with a raised eyebrow and a faint smile.

Chew's eyes widened and he drew in a breath, but otherwise managed to keep his reaction in check. Finally he nodded and replied in the same hushed tones. "Excellent. That's excellent news, Commander. Thank you."

"My pleasure, sir."

Chapter 5

[Deck 49, Bulkhead 12, Corridor 4, INT Sinkhole]

Trooper MI-036 stood at attention, a glossy white ceramic statue, as an ensign hurried past to his battle station. The stormtrooper felt none of the nervousness that showed plainly on the other man's face. In the unlikely event that any Rebels tried to board the ship, he and his fellows would make short work of them. He silently vowed that no Rebel would get past this intersection.

Hearing a noise behind him, he started to turn when suddenly his back exploded in agony, making him spasm. The floor came up in slow motion to hit him in the face. He struggled to roll over and confront his attacker, but the red pain bled away, leaving only blackness.

The ensign, no longer quite so nervous, quickly holstered his blaster and bent down to drag the body out of sight. Similar scenes were taking place all over the ship with other Imperial loyalists.

At a range of five kilometers, the X-wings suddenly bucked and twisted in the grip of an invisible hand - all except for Redjed, who had been warned by one of his uncanny hunches and managed to break the tractor lock just in time. He went full evasive, trying to confound the Interdictor's gunners. A calm, clear voice broke into the frantic chatter of the Red pilots.

"Rebel craft, this is Captain Ung Chew. We have you in our tractor beams. Surrender now and you have my personal guarantee that you will not be harmed."

"Is this part of the plan?" Leo demanded.

Ranger grimaced. "Well, in a manner of speaking..." Indeed, this was one of the contingencies they'd covered at the meeting. It had the smell of a trap, but they hadn't yet been fired upon, and Chew's promise was unusual for an Imperial captain. Either way, Ranger's next action was the same: call for help and stall. "Sek, advise the Regis." The astromech's response was a second-long squeal of several notes, which caused the X-wing's internal lights to dim briefly as Sek put enough power into the signal to hopefully punch through any jamming.

"Why don't we just destroy them?" Argos asked heatedly, almost forgetting to add the "Sir."

Chew pointed a finger at the two assault transports they'd also tractored. "I want whatever's on those transports. This is an opportunity to gain vital intelligence about what the Rebels are up to in this sector. Don't you think that outweighs the satisfaction of blowing them all into scrap, Lieutenant?"

Argos was spared further humiliation by the shout of the sensor operator. "Nebulon-B exiting hyperspace twenty kilometers to our stern! It's the Rebel frigate Regis."

Chew frowned. Ironic that he would almost rather face one of the Calamari cruisers than the command ship of Red Squadron, given their past history together. But there was no turning back now. His crew were looking to him for orders. The next few minutes would decide everything. "Activate our grav-wells. Come to port to bring our guns to bear on the frigate. Launch..."

The renewed blaring of the klaxon interrupted him. The bridge was suddenly a flurry of activity as alarms sounded at nearly every station. Chew's heart raced in panic before he remembered he'd arranged this; he let the stricken expression remain on his face as he shouted, "What's happening?!"

A welter of voices answered: "Gravity generators are off-line..." "fire control failure" "power loss" "... lockdown on all decks fore of Bulkhead ..." "radiation leaks" "Sir! Orders, sir?"

Normally Chew would have taken charge and restored order. Instead, he simply stepped back and looked befuddled, letting the confusion continue. When Argos paused in his own giving of orders to glance at him with contempt, it was all Chew could do not to smile.

Yale felt his fighter surge under him as the tractor beam holding it cut out. He yanked his stick back and broke upstar, then rolled to starboard and dove again to bring the Sinkhole into his sights. Instead of the expected sleet of turbolaser fire, he saw only the white hull of the Interdictor; if he looked closely, he could even see scorch marks around the base of one of the grav-well bulges. The generator had been replaced and the hull patched, but the ship still bore scars from the battle at Red Base. Well, so did he.

He was lining up for a strafing run on the superstructure when Cee-Four beeped and whistled for attention. "Not now, Cee-Four."

BUT THE INTERDICTOR IS NOW SENDING A FRIENDLY IFF.

Yale blinked at the small text readout, then checked his scope. The blip he had bracketed, that had been Imperial red a moment ago, now glowed a cool Rebel green. Reluctantly he broke off his run and banked away. "What happened, did one of the transports get through?"

NEGATIVE. BOTH WERE TRACTORED ALONG WITH US.

"Ranger, do you see what I see?"

"Affirmative, Thirteen. It might still be a trick, though. Hold station for now and watch for enemy fighters. Albin 1, suggest you avoid the main hangar and go right for the bridge tower. Albin 2, take the engineering spaces."

"Copy that, Red Two. On our way."

[ATR Albin 1]

A bead of sweat dripped down Sergeant Gunther's face. He wiped at it distractedly, gripping his blaster carbine with the other hand. The tension was only slightly less than when they'd been caught in the Interdictor's tractor beam. He and his ten-man Delta Team had waited in the claustrophobic red dimness, along with the other three squads, to see if they would be drawn in and counter-boarded or simply blown apart by turbolaser fire, with no chance to defend themselves. The fear was still there, but now it was balanced with anticipation. They were again moving to their target and would begin the boarding operation shortly.

"Thirty seconds," the overhead speaker announced.

"Delta Team, with me." Gunther's people were already standing; now they shuffled into a line behind their leader as he stood before the assault transport's boarding lock. They had drawn the dubious honor of being the first squad out the door. "Weapons check." Each of the ten hefted their carbines and verified once more that they were set for stun.

"Ten seconds." There was no sense of motion, but he knew that the transport would be snuggling up next to the Interdictor's hull. There was a jolt, then another, followed by the sizzle he recognized as the sound of the cutting torches going to work. Deep breath, and...

The breaching charge went off, blowing the square of armor into the compartment, in pieces. A stormtrooper standing nearby was shredded. A moment later the boarding lock's outer door hissed open. Instead of a person, the first thing to emerge was a small metal sphere; tossed against the far wall, it fell to the deck and rolled, then filled the room with another blinding flash and deafening explosion.

Rylo dived out of the hole and rolled to one side as the rest of his team followed, blaster muzzles seeking targets. None offered themselves, so Delta Team moved to cover the doors as the rest of the transport's human (and alien) cargo disembarked.

The bridge was quieter now as the flood of incoming reports had shrunk to a trickle. The overall picture they presented was still maddening, however. Lt. Argos wanted to whip off his uniform cap and pull at his hair. Systems failures all over the ship. Shields were still up, but fire control was out and most of the battery commanders weren't answering. The gravity-well generators had shut down all at once, causing a backsurge that had knocked out main power until moments ago. There were numerous reports of radiation leaks, though most if not all of those were surely false. And to cap it all off, most of the ship's blast doors had closed to isolate compartments in a full security lockdown. Sabotage, of course, but how, and by whom...?

A muffled explosion made heads turn toward the rear of the bridge. Even Captain Chew looked up from his consultation with Maxell. The stormtroopers in the security foyer readied their weapons. Argos started to panic. This cannot be happening to me!

The doors started to slide open but stopped, leaving a diamond-shaped hole in the middle. A grenade was pitched through this aperture. One of the stormtroopers promptly threw himself onto it. The blast flipped his body over, his chestplate a mangled ruin. Crewmen ducked as the surviving trooper stepped into the breach and returned fire through it. Two blue ion pulses and a lethal red bolt knocked him to the floor as well.

Alliance commandos poured onto the bridge as the doors finished opening. If anyone moved for a weapon, a wave of energy washed over them leaving them twitching on the deck. Most of the officers froze where they were or slowly put up their hands. The bridge shuddered with another distant blast.

Crouched in his hiding place in one of the galleries flanking the bridge, Argos watched the Rebels with impotent rage. Chew, on the other hand, straightened and began walking slowly toward them with his hands empty. Sergeant Gunther started to point his carbine at him, then relaxed and actually grinned. "You would be Captain Chew."

"That's right."

"A friend of yours told us you'd be here." Rylo transferred the blaster to his other hand and extended the first in greeting. "And that you might want to join us on the other side of the fence."

Argos shook his head in angry disbelief. His hand started to twitch.

"That's correct. Is, ah, he with you?"

"No, I'm afraid-"

"DIE, TRAITOR!" Argos brought his sidearm up and fired. Before he could see where the shot landed, he was flying backward into a console, pain burning away at his gut. The blaster dropped from his hand and he followed it to the floor.

"That idiot must have been your monitor," Rylo commented into the sudden silence, looking at the blaster burn in the deck at his feet.

"We've confirmed that the Sinkhole has been secured, Commander." McCall's words were just what Zoom wanted to hear. "The captain is addressing his crew now. Please remain on station."

"Will do, Regis, and thanks." Zoom banked to starboard, leading the other three X-wings in his flight in another lap around the frigate. He was relieved that they wouldn't have to assist Ranger's flight, but remained alert. He knew from experience that the mission wasn't over until you were back in the hangar, and new enemies could appear when you least expected it.

[Bridge, ISD Inquisitor]

The beautiful blue swirls of hyperspace collapsed into streaks and finally pinpricks of stars. The golden disk of Chax was dead center in the forward viewports of the Inquisitor's bridge.

Awlas turned away from the vista. "Launch our fighter screen and then prepare a set of probes. I want to know where Chew is and what he's up to."

[Bridge, FRG Regis]

Daly reviewed the latest report from the Sinkhole. Half an hour after the assault began, the last pockets of resistance had been disarmed or otherwise neutralized. Casualties had been light, thanks in large part to the assistance of the Interdictor's officers and crew. Less than two hundred had flatly refused to defect. They would be set adrift in shuttles and escape pods, to make their own ways back to civilization. Meanwhile, the Regis's security contingent would remain on board to guard against any attempts by hidden Imperial fanatics to retake the ship.

The good spirits on the bridge were not shared by Lt. Commander Jemol, who stood tensely behind the sensor station. He didn't trust these Imperial scum at all. Deceit and brutality were all they understood. His arm started to throb as he remembered his days as a slave for the Empire. He remembered how two of his friends had been discovered, through Imperial trickery, of planning to escape the camps. Both they and their familes were executed as an example. It was only by chance, and their brave silence, that he'd avoided the same fate.

Jemol turned at the sound of the bridge door opening, and his mouth formed a silent snarl as he saw it was Major Faulkner and Commander Rusgry. Joined at the hip, he thought sourly. Two of a kind.

"Sir, I was hoping that I might be allowed to speak to my captain," Rusgry said.

Daly looked inquiringly at Faulkner, who shrugged. "Very well. McCall, see if you can raise Captain Chew."

As McCall complied, the sensor console began to beep for attention. "New contact bearing two-ten mark twenty, at extreme range but closing rapidly," the sensorman reported.

"It's a trap!" Jemol spat, turning away from the screen to stare at Daly. "They have betrayed us."

"Calm down, Ta'aba," Daly said, his own voice cool and level. He'd noticed the way Jemol had looked at Rusgry ever since the pilot came aboard, how tense he was now, and hoped his hotheaded exec wouldn't become physically violent. "Let's see what it is first."

"Captain, I have Captain Chew on speakers."

"One moment." Daly addressed the air. "Captain, this is Gideon Daly, commanding the frigate Regis. I wish I could deliver this greeting in person, but..."

"But that will have to wait until we are both safely away from here," Chew finished for him. "I understand."

"Captain, there is a more pressing matter." Daly cleared his throat. "We've just picked up a new signal, headed this way. It's not one of ours."

"Yes, we have it on our board too," Chew acknowledged after a moment. "I do not recognize it. Too small to be anything but a starfighter, or perhaps..."

"Target has gone active," McCall broke in, one hand to her headset. She flicked a set of switches and a staccato series of buzzing beeps and chirps were audible to the whole bridge. Faulkner said it before anyone else could: "Probe droid."

"I concur," Chew said. "Captain, we have current Imperial codes; my people will try to decode that transmission."

"Don't bother," Daly said, shaking his head. "I can guess the message. Captain, I would appreciate it if you could get your ship under way as soon as possible. Daly out."

Rusgry blinked as the connection was cut without him ever getting a chance to talk. "Sir, I..."

"Not now, Commander," Daly interrupted. "We're about to get a visit from whoever sent that probe, and I just don't have time. Major, please escort this man off my bridge."

Faulkner gripped the other man's arm firmly and began to march him back the way they'd come. Rusgry went quietly, though not happily. The last thing he heard as the turbolift doors closed was Daly ordering one of the patrolling X-wings diverted to destroy the probe.

Chapter 6

Zoom swore as arrival messages began to scroll across the top of his CMD. A Star Destroyer and two Imperial frigates had emerged from hyperspace about ten kilometers off the Regis' port side, right on their own escape vector. He did the math automatically. Ten squadrons. We are so screwed.

"Okay, listen up." Zoom tried to put confidence he didn't feel into his voice. "This is how we'll do it. Yale, Kiki, Redjed, Assassin: you cover the Regis and the Sinkhole. Watch out for bombers making torpedo runs. Everybody else, follow me. We'll try to take out as many of those fighters as we can."

At that moment a pair of B-wings roared out of the Regis's hangar, their S-foils swinging open and locking in a cruciform pattern. "Hey Zoom, Kyp here. Sorry about the delay, but Pappy just finished putting these babies back together. Schmitty's my wing. I thought he was gonna burst something if I didn't let him come along."

"Glad to have you with us," Zoom said sincerely. "Hang back and take any fighters that get past us. If any of those cap ships get too close, try to bloody their noses a bit." He paused to compose himself for what would very likely be his final battle. "Let's go!"

[Bridge, FRG Regis]

Daly gripped the arms of his chair tightly. They were massively outgunned by the Imperial force that had just come out of hyperspace, and he knew that he would have to put the survival of the Interdictor before that of his own ship. Over the years the Regis had grown on him, until now he was not sure that he could sacrifice her. He looked around the bridge, noting how scared his people were, how young they looked. But they all stayed at their posts and did their jobs. He knew he could do no less.

"Astrogation, start plotting us a new vector out of the system."

He glanced over at the tactical display just in time to see the lead elements of Red Squadron contact the swelling number of Imperial fighters. The future looked bleak for all of them.

For Zoom, it was as if the sky opened up and started raining TIEs. Their steely-blue hulls roared by his canopy in twos and threes, spitting emerald death. Energy sizzled and splashed against his shields, blinding him to the results of his return fire. He came through the storm with his doubled forward shields reduced to a single amber arc. He had to drain his laser power entirely to get them back up. "Rapier, still with me?"

"Yeah. What a rush."

Zoom chuckled. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the former Red Leader sounded as cool as ever. "Okay, follow my lead." As his lasers started to recharge, Zoom rolled to port and pulled back in a loop, looking for a target. He found plenty.

"Roger." Ranger targeted a flight of three TIEs that were escorting six bombers. "Leo, target those eyeballs. Once we've cleared them, take out the dupes." He rolled up on his starboard S-foils and dove toward the incoming ships, linking his lasers together. The TIE pilots noticed the rapidly approaching X-wings and turned to engage.

The range reeled down on Ranger's CMD. He tensed his finger against the trigger and started firing at two klicks. One of the TIEs broke formation, panicked by the lasers flying towards him. The other two TIEs concentrated on the X-wing coming in head-on, dodging the long range fire, looking for an easy kill. They never saw Leo coming in from another angle. His orange fire chewed into the nearer TIE. One of its solar panels broke off and it began to tumble out of control before exploding. Ranger took out the other TIE, rolling through the fireball, already looking for the one that had gone evasive. It was just finishing its loop, coming around to settle in on Leo's tail. "Six, break down, now!" Leo complied and the TIE followed him in his dive. Ranger's first shot grazed a solar panel. The Imperial pilot realized he'd been set up and broke off, but Ranger's fire was relentless and deadly.

The two B-wings dropped in behind the close bomber formation. Two of the bombers broke off to engage their pursuers, or perhaps just to save themselves. Kyp and Schmitty raked their lasers over those that remained. One exploded as a laser penetrated its proton torpedo magazine, spraying shrapnel into his wingman, who blew up as well. Another dupe was wounded but not destroyed. It pulled up and away, pursued by more orange bolts. Another shot lanced into its ion engines, which tore loose and exploded inside the cockpit pod.

Lining up on the last bomber, Schmitty noted his missile-lock warning was blinking amber. He glanced back to see that one of the dupes had indeed gotten on his six. He threw his stick hard over and the B-wing strained to comply, its engine cluster and wings spinning wildly around his cockpit pod.

[Bridge, ISD Inquisitor]

"Unacceptable, simply unacceptable," Awlas fumed. His bomber squadron was taking heavy losses, and so far not a single torpedo had been launched at the enemy. "Are those pilots asleep? Do they think this is an exercise? Get the Razors to their fighters, now!"

A terrified fighter control officer turned back to his console, ordering the launch of the Inquisitor's elite Interceptor squadron. Awlas turned his back on the young officer in contempt, looking at the tactical display. The red blips still outnumbered the pitiful green motes. It was only a matter of time before his forces swept away the Rebel defenders and Chew paid the price for his treachery.

Fragments of a former TIE skittered along his forward shields, but Rapier had no time to admire the light show. He also spared no thought for his eighth victim of the day; that would come later. Rolling to starboard, he lined up on another TIE that was going after Zoom as he in turn hammered a bomber flight.

Only a few minutes had passed since the start of this battle, but it seemed like an eternity to Zoom. So far Red Squadron had not taken any losses, but that could not continue for much longer. The Imperials were increasing the pressure. A laser grazed Zoom's shields; he'd held a straight line too long, concentrating on the bombers. He went evasive, rebalancing his shields and firing again at his quarry with what little laser power he had left.

A few kilometers away, an X-wing swooped in behind an Interceptor that was peppering another X-wing's tail with shots. Four deadly orange bolts spat from the Rebel fighter's wingtips, converging at a point inside the squint's cockpit ball. The dagger-shaped solar panels went spinning off in opposite directions.

"Woo hoo!" Yale whooped. "A perfect kill!" His triumph abated a bit as he glanced at his scanners. "Kiki, looks like some dupes got past the others... I've got torps running! Let's knock 'em down!"

[Bridge, FRG Regis]

"Incoming torpedoes!" Lt. Eran, the sensor officer, cried. "Impact in fifteen seconds."

"All guns, target those warheads," Daly ordered. He knew their turbolasers would probably not destroy all of them, but even two or three could make the difference in the end. The seconds ticked by quickly. The entire ship shuddered and the lights dimmed as the energy of six proton torpedoes was absorbed by the shields. "Report."

"Shields holding at eighty percent. Some minor injuries reported."

"Very well. McCall, tell Sinkhole I need their latest estimate on when repairs will be completed."

"Aye, sir."

"Five seconds to reversion." Lieutenant Marchand reached for the hyperdrive lever and pushed it forward as the countdown reached zero. The swirls of hyperspace resolved into lines and then the pinpoints of stars as the four gunboats came out of hyperspace at the edge of a spectacular lightfight.

"What the hell..."

"Quiet!" Marchand cut off his wingman. He changed to a command frequency, pausing only to read the Star Destroyer's name off his CMD. "Inquisitor, this is Lt. Marchand of gunboat squadron Tau, out of Nekomi. Please advise as to situation."

Kiki finished off the last of the bombers, holding down his trigger until the double-hulled craft bloomed into a fireball. These Imps had just tried to destroy his home. That made it real personal.

McCall's voice broke into his vengeful anger. "Lt. Sazril, four assault gunboats just came out of hyperspace on our starboard side. It looks like they're going after the Sinkhole. Can you assist?"

"No problem, Regis," Yale quipped. "Come on, Kiki, looks like we've got some stingflies to swat."

Marchand rechecked his CMD as the wedge of the Interdictor grew in his forward view. Almost in range. He hadn't believed his new orders at first, but the Admiral had been quite clear. Now he was doing something he'd never imagined he would, attacking an Imperial cruiser. But not Imperial any more, he reminded himself. Gone rogue, like that damned Zaarin.

The shrill warble of his targeting lock was comforting, familiar. He squeezed the trigger and felt his ship shudder slightly as he fired torpedo after torpedo at the traitorous Interdictor. More blue streaks from either side told him that his wingmen were doing the same. Good.

"They're firing!"

Yale gritted his teeth and held his stick tightly. They were still out of range themselves, even for torpedoes -- unable to do anything but watch as the gunboat flight emptied their racks at the helpless Sinkhole. A few green turbolasers flashed out ineffectively. A single detonation marked the demise of one of the torpedoes, but the rest bored in relentlessly.

Just like at Red Base, Yale thought. Except this time, I'm trying to save this ship, not destroy it. Shaking his head at the strange fortunes of war, he waited for his own sights to turn red, holding his breath as the first of the torpedoes detonated against the shields of the Interdictor.

[Bridge, INT Sinkhole]

Chew pulled himself off of the deck, coughing as the fumes from fried electronics caught in his throat. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He reached up to touch his pounding head; his hand came away red and sticky. His first officer ran over to him, looking remarkably unharmed. "Status?" Chew groaned.

"Sir, are you all right?" Maxell tried to help him to his feet.

"Status!" Chew repeated, snarling. Maxell flinched, then looked down at a datapad he was carrying. "Shields are down to five percent. Minor damage to the engines. Grav. Gen. Two is leaking coolant."

"Get a... get a crew on it." Chew leaned against a bulkhead and accepted a handkerchief from his first officer, dabbing at the injury.

Yale ducked reflexively as a severed wing flew right past his canopy, grimacing at the near accidental revenge of the last gunboat. Looking down at his CMD he saw that the Sinkhole was in trouble. Worse, his comrades were being hard-pressed by the T/Fs and T/Is, with the result that more bombers were getting through. Some of them were definitely on-course for the Interdictor. Yale reinforced his shields, checked to make sure Kiki was still with him, and then headed to intercept them.

[Corridor near Gravity Generator Two, INT Sinkhole]

Chief Caltrain sweated behind the breath mask. The corrosive fumes from the leaking coolant were already starting to eat at his protective suit, but he had to stop the leak or the whole section would need to be vented to space. Moving awkwardly in the suit, he pulled the curved sheeting towards the cracked pipe. Two other crewmen joined his exertions. At last they got it over the breached section.

"Clamps!" Caltrain shouted, his voice hoarse through the mask.

Two more crewmen applied clamps around the pipe and sheeting. Coolant squirted through the narrow gap, burning through one man's suit. Screaming he let go of the clamp and staggered back into another tech who was trying to take his place at the clamp. Caltrain forced his concern out of his mind, concentrating on keeping the patch in place while fixing the second clamp. At last he was able to step back himself while the fusion welder went to work.

[Bridge, FRG Regis]

"Captain, the Sinkhole's shields are down," Jemol reported in frustration. "And we're taking fire ourselves. We just don't have enough fighters to hold off all of theirs."

Daly regarded his XO, then the tactical display. "You're right, of course." He drew a deep breath. "Helm, move us between the Sinkhole and those bombers. Maybe we can shoot some of them down, or at least delay their strikes." And maybe take some of those torpedoes ourselves. "Launch all remaining fighters."

Jemol stared at him. Daly said calmly, "You have your orders, Lt. Commander."

"... Aye, sir."

"Get him off me!" Phoenix shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. He jinked right and left, but the squint stayed with him easily. "I can't shake him!" Not in a Y-wing, that's for sure.

"Hold on, Mario," Hijack replied. "I'm on my way." He shunted as much power to his engines as he dared, dodging fire from the Interceptor on his own tail as he hurried to the aid of his flight leader.

Another hit sent feedback through the Y-wing's power systems. Phoenix screamed as the shield indicator shorted out, spraying sparks and glass shards into his face. Through the pain, he heard Hijack calling to him: "Break now!" He pulled his craft into the tightest turn he could manage.

Hijack saw the fighter sluggishly start to turn and fired at the squint pursuing it. His linked shots punched through a solar panel, narrowly missing the cockpit ball. The Interceptor broke off to face this new threat, leaving the wounded Y-wing for later.

[Pilot's Ready Room, FRG Regis]

"What do you think you're doing?"

Rusgry finished zipping up the front of his black flightsuit and turned to look at Major Faulkner. "What does it look like, Major?"

"You can't just climb into one of our snubfighters and take off."

"I first learned to fly in an Incom Skyhopper." Rusgry smiled wryly. "I understand the controls of your X-wings aren't much different."

"What I mean is, I can't let you." Faulkner drew his sidearm and leveled it at the pilot. "Step away from the locker, please, Commander."

"Look, Major." Rusgry's voice had lost all of its bantering tone, and was as hard and flat as the Intelligence officer's. "I am a pilot. My ship and my captain are in danger. It is my duty to protect them, and the best way I can do that is in a starfighter. Now, you can shoot me if you have to. But that is the only way you will stop me."

"I could," Faulkner observed. "I could stun you, too."

"You've read my file. You know me. And I know you. I've kept my ears open since I came aboard, Major. There was a time when you needed someone to trust you despite your past, or people were going to die. For me, that time is now." Rusgry's eyes were locked on Faulkner's. "Trust me. Please."

Faulkner wavered and finally holstered his pistol. "If you're lying," he promised in a voice husky with emotion, "I will get in a fighter and hunt you down myself."

"You'd have to wait in line," Rusgry replied, reaching for his life-support pack.

"Break! Break!"

"Redjed, look out, you've picked two up!"

"I'm on him... yes!"

" I need some cover over here. Port stabilizer fluctuating. Shields low."

Phoenix listened to the increasingly desperate comm chatter with half an ear as he struggled to keep his damaged Y-wing on course. The damage to his controls caused him to keep drifting down and to the right. Reflexively he glanced at his scanners, only to see them cracked and useless. Oh well, he didn't really need them. His target would be in range soon, he could feel it. He just hoped they wouldn't notice him until it was too late.

He flicked his weapon selector to warheads. Nothing happened. Frustration overwhelmed him. He smashed his hand at the control panel. The weapons indicator lights flickered and then changed. Phoenix barked a laugh. Hoping his communications gear was still transmitting, he yelled, "I'm starting a run on that Impstar. May the Force be with me!"

The blue trails of proton torpedoes streaked from under the chin of the battered Y-wing toward the belly of the ISD Inquisitor. The Y-Wing started to turn, like a Bantha in a mud pool, away from its target. Three TIE Interceptors swept down behind the fighter-bomber and opened fire. Phoenix pulled at his ejection lever, praying it was still working…

"Hijack, where's your winglead?" Zoom asked as he shot the last of the TIEs off of Hijack's six.

"We got separated a while ago. I've been too busy trying to keep myself alive to keep track of him."

McCall's voice broke in. "Red Leader, we have Nine's beacon on sensors. Will dispatch a shuttle for pickup if possible."

If possible. Zoom's gut clenched, knowing it might not be. "Copy that, Regis, and thank you."

[Bridge, FRG Regis]

Daly looked up from the holodisplay as his Executive Officer walked over. "Sir, shields are at fifty percent. The Sinkhole has managed to stop their coolant leaks, but report that their hyperdrive is experiencing some problems."

"Will they be able to jump on it?"

"Probably, but for how long they do not know."

Daly nodded, gesturing at the tactical map. "The Heinous is getting awfully close. We may have to engage her, but that will mean taking our guns off point defense. Which is just what they want, of course. Ah, there go the Training Wing," he concluded as a new set of blips appeared next to the Regis. They accelerated around the frigate's bow and headed for the thick of the battle.

[Bridge, ISD Inquisitor]

"The Rebels have launched more fighters," the new fighter control officer announced.

Awlas strode over to him. "Well, do something about it then!" he bellowed. "Tell the Razors to engage them."

"Y-yessir," the shaken officer managed to respond. He was doing his best, but seeing the stormtroopers drag his late superior off the bridge had rattled him. The Admiral had not been at all happy that a Y-wing had gotten through their fighter screen to launch torpedoes at them. "Razor Flight, engage the A-wings immediately!"

"Sentinel, Jackal, cover the B-wings while they go after the FRG Heinous," Zoom ordered as he jinked wildly, dodging fire from the TIE on his six while waiting for his shields and lasers to recharge. "Jace, Souvrin, you're with Ranger."

"What about me, Commander?"

Zoom started. He knew that voice, though he didn't expect to hear it now. "Rusgry?"

"At your service and awaiting orders, sir."

The TIE behind Zoom flashed into incandescent vapor as Rapier surgically dispatched it with a pair of shots through the cockpit. Zoom sighed in relief. He hoped the Training Wing would do as well here as they had at Red Base. If anything, the situation was worse this time.

"Okay, Rusgry, you're with me and Rapier for now. You have any problem shooting TIEs?"

"Not in this case, Commander."

"Fair enough. Follow me, gentlemen." Redirecting energy from full recharge, Zoom turned toward the nearest group of fighters.

Kyp pulled his B-wing into a loop, not waiting to see his torpedoes land on the grey flank of the FRG Heinous. He still had a pair left in his tubes and intended to use them on the next pass. The trainees had managed to relieve enough pressure on him and Schmitty for them to get a clean run on the capital ship. As he headed away from the Imperial frigate, he checked his CMD and saw that its shields were down to a mere five percent. He rebalanced his own shields and grinned, enjoying the chance to use the B-wing on its intended target.

"You still with me, Schmitty?"

"Yes, sir. I'm out of torpedoes, though."

"That's fine. I'll take down the shields on this next pass and then we can try to disable her. Be ready with your ion cannons."

The two B-wings turned back towards the Heinous. Kyp dumb-fired his torpedoes and switched to lasers. The frigate's shields collapsed and both B-wings got in a few ion shots before breaking off to recharge guns and shields. TIEs that dove in on them were picked off by the cadets in their speedy A-wings.

"One more pass..." Kyp muttered as he wrestled his craft around. Electrical discharges began to arc across the frigate's hull as the B-wings continued to pound it with ion bolts. Finally its lights began to flicker as systems overloaded and its engines died. Return fire slackened and then stopped. Kyp sighed in relief as his fighter ducked under the boom of the now-harmless warship. "Regis, this is Cashman. Heinous isn't going anywhere."

Zoom opened his mouth to congratulate Kyp, but a high-pitched squeal from Jo made his hair stand on end. Wincing, he glanced down at the translation panel. Oh, no. "You're sure?" Jo beeped a confirmation.

"Red Leader to all groups. Another Star Destroyer, Victory-class, has just arrived. We're boxed in."

Chapter 7

Major Sev Colwyn was pushed back into the seat of his TIE Bomber as it launched from the VSD Valiant. He smiled as he saw his target, the Interdictor Sinkhole, dead ahead and already in range. Not even a single fighter was in view. Those pesky Rebels would not be able to stop him. He laid his sights over the Interdictor's twin engines and got the sweet tone of lock almost immediately. With a squeeze of the triggers on his yoke, he sent the first pair of torpedoes on their way.

Rusgry knew he would never get to the bombers on time. Still he tried. He was at ELS 0/0 and Zoom and Rapier were falling quickly behind him. All Rusgry could think about was saving his Captain. Nothing else mattered. He could not fail -- they were so close. Almost in range. The TIEs started to launch warheads at the already weakened Interdictor. Switching to an open channel, Rusgry screamed "Feel my wrath!"

Colwyn's smile broadened into a grin as he heard the shout. "Rusgry, is that you? I heard you were dead! But it seems you're a traitor too." He thought back to how the hotshot Rusgry had humiliated him at the Academy. Now he would have the chance to settle accounts. "Apocalypse Squadron! Blast that X-wing to atoms!" He flipped his selector switch to lasers and turned to face the onrushing snubfighter.

Nash found himself almost in the path of the torpedoes, a deadly stream of blue approaching from starboard. He knew he had to try to intercept them. The Sinkhole would never survive this barrage. Trying to calm himself, he thought back to all the simulator hours he had been put through. Ranger had seemed to enjoy inflicting those exercises upon him and the other trainees, but now Nash understood why. It's okay. I can do this.

Seconds before the river of torpedoes flowed past him, he turned to run with the current, praying that none would end up in his exhausts. He started firing at the torpedoes as they passed. Warheads detonated all around him, rocking his fighter. The Interdictor got bigger and bigger as he raced the torpedoes to their target. He waited until the last moment to pull out, yanking the stick back as he skimmed up the backside of the command tower, hoping he'd gotten enough.

Behind him, the stern of the Interdictor became a roiling inferno.

[Bridge, INT Sinkhole]

The bridge was in chaos. Several crewmen sprayed foam over the burning shield control station; its operator was already on the way to the medical bay. Others were lifting a fallen beam off the legs of an unconscious Commander Maxell. Smoke filled the air, making everyone cough as they struggled to get the ship under control. A medic was applying a bacta strip to Chew's temple, though blood already masked that side of his face. A young Lieutenant with the beginnings of a black eye limped over to the captain, waving away the hands of a medic who was trying to help him. He drew himself up and saluted.

"Sir, we have multiple hull breaches in the aft sections. Our sublight engines are offline and the chief reports that he is unsure of the hyperdrive's status. Hull integrity is at 32%. We cannot take much more damage."

"Do you have a course plotted?"

"Yes, but..."

"No buts! We leave now or we die. Sound the alert. All hands, prepare for hyperspace."

"Lead, you've got three on your tail!"

"I know, I know!"

"Pull up!"

"Six, break now."

"Shields down! I need some help over here!"

"Six, you're clear. You think you could clean my tail for me?"

"Some eyeballs are going after the Regis. Can anyone intercept?"

"Negative. I'm trying to shake two over here."

"Souvrin, eject! Eject!"

"He's clear, I've got his beacon."

Assassin tried to ignore the comm chatter. His own situation was dire enough. The dupe in his sights was rolling and weaving, making itself a difficult target. Assassin tried to line up on it again. Lasers from the bomber's two friends flew around him, mostly clean misses but sometimes grazing his rear shields. The bomber passed through his sights again. This time it died.

"Assassin, break hard right now!"

Assassin complied immediately. Lasers shot along his former flight path. One of the tailing squints was speared right through the canopy, exploding spectacularly. "Thanks, Redjed," Assassin said, wishing his helmet would let him wipe the sweat out of his eyes. He turned to cover his wingleader as the second TIE became the hunted.

[Bridge, FRG Regis]

"Sir, the Sinkhole reports thirty seconds to hyperspace."

Daly nodded. "Helm, stand by for hyperspace on my mark." The Regis's shields were at 20%. It was going to be very close.

Jemol leaned in to speak to him. "Two of Red Squadron's pilots are EV. Shall I have a shuttle launched to recover them before we jump?"

"Negative. A shuttle wouldn't last a minute out there." All chatter on the bridge stopped at the captain's words. Daly paused a moment longer, then quirked a smile. "Have one of the ATRs do it instead."

Relief swept across the bridge, and even Jemol seemed to smile a bit. "Aye, sir."

The last of the TIE Bombers from the Valiant died as Rapier's lasers hit and ignited the warhead pod. He drew even with Rusgry's fighter, which looked as if it had been chewed on. A concussion missile had taken off one S-foil entirely and blackened the other on that side, and there was fresh laser scoring on the nose. Looking inside the canopy, Rapier found it was filled with smoke. "Commander Rusgry, are you all right?"

After a moment, Rusgry answered, sounding weak and raspy. "Yes... I had to seal my flightsuit."

"Let's get you back to the Regis," Rapier said, checking his scopes and noting how close the next wave was getting. "You're in no condition to fight."

"As ordered." Engines firing unevenly, Rusgry turned in the general direction of the frigate. "Did I get that [cough] buckethead, Colwyn?"

"That you did, sir. That you did."

[Bridge, ISD Inquisitor]

"Admiral, our flight leaders report the Rebel frigate is still blocking their runs on the Sinkhole."

Awlas snorted. "Then order them to destroy that frigate. Maximum firepower. Once it's out of the way, we'll finish off Chew." He stepped to the front of the bridge to look out on the battle. Raising his hand and clenching it into a fist, he murmured, "Now I have you!"

"What the hell?!" Ranger exclaimed as the bomber group he'd been closing in on changed course, still in formation. His quad laser burst passed through empty space. A crackling jolt to his rear and a squeal from Sek informed him that he'd picked up some unwanted attention himself. He pushed his X-wing into a dive and saw the second and third shots pass overhead.

"Don't worry, Ranger, I've got him." Leo's first dual shot clipped one of the TIE's solar wings; the second blew it into particles and vapor.

"Nice shot," Ranger acknowledged as he reoriented on the bombers, switching to single fire. This time his lasers sleeted across the quartet of slow-moving craft, scattering them, but not before some had time to launch their torpedoes. He finished off one that he'd wounded and turned methodically to the next. And the next.

Redjed came up over the top of the Regis's forward hull and took out the last of the TIE fighters that had been strafing the frigate. As the pilot's brief pyre dissipated, Redjed found himself in the clear for the moment. He glanced at his scanners and gasped: a cluster of gold blips, too many to count -- dozens, at least -- had appeared amid the red and green. Locking onto one, he found they were heading for the Regis. "Zoom, Zoom, the Regis is in trouble!"

Rapier also saw the torpedoes. He accelerated away from Rusgry, who was making his landing approach to the Regis. "Confirmed, Lead. I have multiple torpedoes inbound on the Regis. Everyone get over here fast."

Zoom growled in frustration as his X-wing took another pair of hits. "Little busy right now, Three." He dove and then rolled to port and climbed again. "Anyone who's free, do what he says." Cutting back sharply on his throttle, he got the TIE behind him to overshoot and blasted it with a snap shot. His low-power lasers merely burned it, but the pilot went evasive, rolling and weaving to take full advantage of his fighter's superior maneuverability. Finally the Imperial turned to make another attack ... and flew right into Zoom's recharged lasers.

"Sucker."

From extreme range Assassin fired into the torpedoes, to no effect. He was not close enough, not fast enough. He redirected shield power to engines and felt the gentle pressure of compensated acceleration. His astromech warbled a low warning. "This isn't the time to be careful, Fate." Assassin fired again and saw an explosion amid the blue teardrops. "That's more like it." He had the range now, and the angle; with every shot, another proton detonation blossomed and faded.

Fate scolded him again. Exasperated, Assassin glanced down at the translation panel. "What?" he demanded. He didn't get a chance to read the message before it was wiped away by a piercing squeal: LOOK OUT! His head snapped up just in time to see a torpedo heading right for his canopy. His hand convulsed on the stick, but the warhead was already inside his firing pattern.

The first proton torpedo slammed into Assassin's X-wing, knocking down its forward shields and sending it into an uncontrolled tumble. As it rolled directly into the path of the torpedo spread, another two struck fore and aft, consuming the starfighter in their combined blast.

Yale fought with his controls, which were almost as sluggish as the TIE Bomber in front of him. He fired and overshot the bomber, but hit the torpedo it had just fired. The shrapnel from the blast shredded the bomber. Yale slewed his nose around to bear on the next bomber as Kiki crowed his triumph at taking out a fighter.

"Yale, break!" Sentinel shouted as a TIE Fighter started to fire at the battered X-wing. His glancing shot punctured the cockpit ball near the engines and a plume of gas jetted into the void where it froze instantly. The wounded TIE broke off its attack and began to limp back to the Inquisitor. Sentinel let it go, targeting another eyeball.

Schmitty saw it happen. "Regis is shields down!" he shouted into his comm.

The message sent a chill down Zoom's spine as he checked his scopes again. The gold blips were still there. There's no way they can survive that many torps.. He redoubled his efforts to reach the frigate, fearing he would be too late.

Abruptly the Sinkhole snapped forward and vanished, clawing its way into hyperspace. The Regis began to move toward its own exit point.

"Red Squadron, this is Assault Transport Albin 2," Lt. Tessa Valis announced. The ATR, having disengaged from the Sinkhole before the Interdictor jumped out, headed toward the combat zone. "We would appreciate some cover while we pick up your downed pilots."

"Roger that." Zoom replied. "Redjed will cover you for now."

Redjed finished off the TIE in front of him then diverted power to engines as he headed for the newly arrived transport. Two TIEs followed close behind.

"Leo, can you get to that bomber?" Ranger asked desperately, as he tried to avoid the three TIEs on his tail.

"I've got two squints on me," Leo replied. "Ask me in a minute, if I'm still here."

Ranger used every evasive technique in the book, and a few he thought he'd invented himself, but the pilots behind him seemed to be able to keep at least one of their number on him all the time. His rear shields were almost gone. He dared to straighten out for a moment and take two shots at the dupe he was chasing, then juked just as the flight of eyeballs behind him opened fire on the easy target. One of Ranger's shots and one from his pursuers grazed the bomber, making it break off. Ranger grinned, giving thanks for "friendly fire" for once, then flinched as another hit popped the double bars across his console that showed his laser power. He reinforced his shields with his remaining laser energy and then set his recharge to zero. Sek chirped shrilly, but Ranger couldn't take the time to see what the droid was saying; in this situation, he had to concentrate on his own uncertain survival.

The bomber that Ranger had been firing at leveled out and lined up on the Rebel frigate once more. Too bad about that Interdictor getting away, the pilot reflected; the Admiral wasn't going to be happy. But at least there was a consolation prize. Maybe he'd even get in the kill shot. Delta Three grinned at that happy thought and sent his last two torpedoes chasing after the others.

The second Imperial frigate was now in range of the Regis and her gunners opened fire. Venom's green turbolasers ate into Regis's unshielded hull, spraying molten metal, flaming gas, and the remains of unfortunate crewmembers into space. Return fire was weak and scattered, with most of the Rebel frigate's guns still tasked to point defense against the incoming swarm.

As those torpedoes bored in, their paths curving to intercept the Regis despite its forward motion, the frigate suddenly surged ahead. The rate of closure dropped to zero and then the Regis began to pull away, opening the gap and finally shooting into hyperspace. The torpedoes left in her wake realized they'd lost their target and self-destructed in a dazzling display like a string of firecrackers going off.

Delta Three howled at the loss of what had looked like a certain kill. He was still screaming as he died.

Zoom let out his breath as Jo reported that the Regis had entered the safety of hyperspace. "Okay, boys, I think it's time we blow this scene. I'll stay behind with Redjed and Rapier to cover the ATR. Everyone else, regroup at point Gamma-One, repeat Gamma-One."

[Bridge, ISD Inquisitor]

Awlas was purple with rage. The incomptence of his underlings had cost him both ships. He would become the laughing stock of the Imperial Navy. Twice defeated by a mere Training Squadron!

He looked down to see everyone staring at him. Only the beeps of the consoles and gentle hum of the air purification system could be heard. Heads ducked as he clawed at the flap of his holster. He drew and fired into the tactical display, blasting at the tiny green icons until the holoprojector shorted out with a shower of sparks.

"That's how you do it," he announced to his terrified crew, and stalked off the bridge with smoking blaster still in hand.

"I've got this one!" the Albin 2's dorsal gunner shouted as he opened up on an incoming TIE. Its explosion a moment later, transfixed by dual lasers, confirmed his statement. He whooped and spun his gun chair around to face another, but it zoomed past before he could do more than scare it. Down in the main troop compartment, one of the transport's flight crew was helping a shivering Souvrin to a seat next to Phoenix. Both recovered pilots had thermal blankets wrapped around them and had blotchy skin and bloodshot eyes where tiny capillaries had burst.

Phoenix favored the cadet with a wan smile. "This your first time EV?" Souvrin tried to answer through chattering teeth and finally just nodded. "Consider it 'negative reinforcement,' next time you're in the sims." Souvrin nodded again, this time with feeling.

"I've got 'em."

"Thanks, Three."

"Albin 2, what's your status?"

"Nice one!"

"I've got Souvrin. One more to go."

The comm chatter cut out as Kiki pulled back on his hyperdrive lever and the distant stars leapt toward him. Nash followed him seconds later. A pair of Interceptors that had been closing in on them turned back to look for other targets.

[Hanger, FRG Regis]

Yale looked dejectedly at his fighter. The hull was blackened and scorched, its once sleek outline distorted by the punishment it had suffered. He wished he had been able to stay to help his friends, but his X-wing's hyperdrive had been destroyed, forcing him to leave on the Regis.

The landing alarm sounded, causing Yale to brighten. The deck crew rushed to their positions as two more battered X-wings approached the hangar.

A few minutes later Kiki and Nash had joined Yale. He greeted them both, relieved now that his wingman was back. The three pilots began to talk about the battle, complete with gestures, but now and then looked anxiously toward the hangar entrance. Eventually Pappy walked over to them.

"Well, aren't you a sorry-lookin' lot. Millin' about like lost nerfs an' gittin' in the way of m'people." Despite his crusty manner, the veteran mechanic was concerned; all three of them looked like they were ready to drop from post-combat exhaustion. "I hear that the Mug is still open. When the others get back, I'll pass th' word. So go on, get. An' take yer droids too."

With sheepish smiles and joking protests, the pilots allowed themselves to be shooed out of the hangar. Soon after they left, the landing alarm went off again. This time it was Ranger who coaxed his starfighter into the hangar. The tip of one of his s-foils had been shot off as he was about to enter hyperspace and there were several fresh streaks of carbon scoring on the fuselage. Switching to repulsors, he guided his X-wing toward his assigned slot. Halfway there, the repulsors cut out. The fighter hit the deck, then bobbed upwards again as they cut back in. For a second it looked as though Ranger might still be able to land it, but the repulsors gave out again and the fighter smashed back to the deck.

For a long moment, Ranger sat very still in the cockpit, waiting to see if the ride was over. At last he pulled off his flight helmet and was reaching for the canopy release when the landing gear gave way. The X-wing crunched down onto its belly.

Two of the deckhands rushed over to the stricken fighter and helped the dazed pilot out. Pappy shook his head sadly. "Laddie, I have to tell ye, that was the worst landin' I've seen in my life."

"Which one?" Ranger asked with a weak chuckle. Behind him, Leo was touching down in a more conventional manner.

[Citizen's Mug, FRG Regis]

The door opened as Trix set the hot chocolates in front of Kiki, Nash and Yale. Kyp and Wire walked in. They waved to the others and slumped into some nearby seats.

"Sentinel and Jackal should be here soon," Wire said, trying to lift the mood of the gathered pilots. "They hypered in just as we were landing." This prompted a few smiles and relieved murmurs, but then the pilots lapsed back into silence. Many still weren't back yet, and everyone had seen Assassin go down. As enigmatic and distant as the pilot with the mysterious past had been at times, he was still one of their own.

Jackal burst into the Mug with a whoop, with Sentinel on his heels. Both cadets were still pumped up from the battle. Their cheerful conversation faltered as they saw the glum looks on their comrades' faces. Speaking more softly, they found a table out of the way to continue the discussion while they waited. Trix finished taking Wire's order and went to see what the cadets wanted.

Zoom, Rapier and Redjed remained on station, circling the Regis, until damage control teams were able to repressurize the boom and make the docking tube operational again. As the assault transport nuzzled up under the frigate, Zoom found his hand on the stick beginning to tremble. He gritted his teeth and tried to still the motion, but his tired muscles wouldn't respond. The X-wing's nose waggled as the shakes intensified.

"Jo, take over flight control!"

There was a bleep of confirmation as Zoom yanked his hand away and held it against his chest. The stick stayed where it was, moving on its own. Zoom sighed in relief as the twitching finally began to fade. "Thanks, Jo. Maybe you should land us, huh?"

The astromech chirped an affirmative and began to guide the X-wing toward the frigate's hangar.

[Twenty minutes later...]

The mood in the Mug was jubilant. Nearly all of Red Squadron had made it back safely. Phoenix, Souvrin and Hijack were down in medical, getting a quick dunk in bacta following their unscheduled spacewalks. Rugsgry was in more serious condition; shrapnel had penetrated his cockpit, and he'd been lying when he told Rapier he was "all right." He was expected to make a full recovery, however. Assassin was the only casualty, and mugs were duly raised in his memory.

Everyone was sharing stories of what they had done in the battle. Congratulations were passed on a successful mission, and speculation began as to how the Alliance would make use of its new Interdictor.

"Who gets the prize for bringing back a fighter in the worst condition?" Leo asked Yale jokingly.

"Depends if you mean when on approach or after the landing," Yale grinned, looking over at Ranger. Ranger opened his mouth to protest, but the sound of Daly's voice over the intercom cut him off. There seemed to be some revelry taking place on the bridge as well.

"All hands, this is the Captain. I have just received... quiet, please." The background noise subsided. "I have just received word from High Command that the Emperor is dead. I repeat, Emperor Palpatine is dead."

There was dead silence in the Mug. Pilots looked at each other, stunned. Even J-2PO stopped polishing glasses behind the bar to listen.

"Approximately one hour ago, the Alliance fleet engaged and destroyed a second Death Star battle station. It has now been confirmed that the Emperor perished in the explosion. At this time, Imperial forces are in full retreat."

Anything else the Captain might have said was lost as cheers erupted from a dozen throats. Everyone was hooting and yelling and cursing the Emperor's name. Pilots and crew alike joined in celebration. Trix even grabbed a startled Leo and kissed him. J-2PO tsked primly at the sound of breaking glass, knowing who would have to clean it up later.

In the midst of it all, Zoom slumped back into his chair. His throat felt raw, his eyes tight. Blinking away unexpected tears, he turned to his XO. "Is it over, then? Is it finally over?"

Ranger looked thoughtful. "Maybe. Or maybe... it's just beginning."

Epilogue

Space around the forest moon of Endor was anything but empty at the moment. A vast belt of debris had begun to spread out in orbit of that blue-green jewel of a world. The burnt-out hulks of Imperial and Rebel starships drifted through the field of smaller fragments that had been starfighters, men, and pieces of the Emperor's second Death Star. Some of these tiny motes moved with purpose: salvage tugs, hard at work now that the search and rescue teams had finished looking for survivors.

Some distance away from the floating graveyard, the Alliance fleet had regrouped around its surviving capital ships. In the centre of the formation was the oblong grey form of the CRS Independence, callsign Home One, her flanks battle-scarred. Rebel starfighters still flew wide loops around the fleet, maintaining alertness. The Imperials had quit the field hours ago, but they might decide to return at any time.

Two ships streaked in from hyperspace, seeming to lurch to a stop on the edge of the debris field. They too showed signs of having been in a hard fight. As the larger of the pair was an Interdictor cruiser, the new arrivals were immediately challenged; fighters swarmed toward the Interdictor and its frigate escort, but explanations were quickly made and credentials verified. The attack became a protective englobement as Regis and Sinkhole limped into formation with the rest of the fleet.

[Main Hangar, FRG Regis]

"...This is your victory! It is the victory of the cause of freedom on every planet. In all our struggles, we have never seen a greater day than this. It is a day made possible by your courage, your pain, your sacrifice. Neither the long years, nor the dangers, nor the fierce attacks of the enemy, have in any way weakened our resolve..."

A great hope and joy filled the assembled crew of the Regis as they listened to Mon Mothma's words over the speakers. We have won. Several people broke down, tears streaming down their faces. Others cheered, clapped and hugged. The Emperor and Vader, gone! All these years and lives have not been spent in vain. Leo smiled as the euphoria of the moment started to kick in, easing memories of friends lost in battles past. The noise died down as the speech continued.

"Now we begin our true work, the restoration of the Republic. It may be that even greater ordeals lie before us. But we shall face them together. We are sure of ourselves and of our cause, and that has sustained us through all these difficult years. It will sustain us into the future. May the Force be with you all, my friends."

The last words of the speech tempered the jubilant mood of the crowd, filling them with resolve to continue their work; not the grim determination they'd often felt before, but the new energy that comes when the goal is finally in sight. Yale stood at the edge of the crowd, his jaw set. There were still things to do, people to avenge, people to free. Yet the hope that had always been with him, even during his darkest hours, seemed stronger now. Maybe soon there could be peace for all, including the souls of those long tortured by the Empire.

[XO's Office, FRG Regis]

Ranger winced as the door to his office chimed. "Enter," he groaned. Zoom walked in, eyebrow raised curiously. "Isn't it too soon for a hangover?"

"I hate concussion," Ranger explained weakly.

Zoom nodded understandingly, looking down at the pile of datapads on the desk. "You should be in medical, then... or in the Mug celebrating with the rest of us, " he observed. "Not doing datawork in here."

"I really don't feel up to that at the moment." Ranger slid a datapad over to Zoom. "No leads yet on any next of kin for Assassin. And Rapier was in here about five minutes ago to tender his resignation."

"What? Why?"

Ranger chuckled, leaning back carefully in his chair. "The war's over, haven't you heard? A lot of people are going to want to go home, those that still have one, and get on with their lives." As Zoom mulled that over, he asked, "How about you?"

Zoom hesitated and finally shook his head. "I don't know. I'm still trying to take it all in. Not used to watching history happen. But I think I'll stay on. Like Mon Mothma said, there's still a lot to be done. I don't see the whole Empire closing up shop, even if we did kill the Emperor today."

"Yeah, me either. And here I was just starting to imagine myself a civilian again." Ranger sighed, but brightened as he tossed another datapad to Zoom. "Now for the good news. Michadick has been doing well in the sims, and he held his own at Chax III, so..."

Zoom glanced at the datapad, smiled, and signed it quickly before sliding it back across Ranger's desk. "I'm sure he'll be happy to hear this."

[Citizen's Mug, FRG Regis]

The Mug was packed with off-duty personnel, the noise almost deafening. There was not a seat to be found for the new arrival. He pushed carefully through the crowd, excusing himself and looking for a certain face. When he finally made it to the bar, Trix smiled and placed a Full Throttle in front of him.

"Thanks," Zoom said, taking a sip of his drink. "Have you seen Schmitty?"

Just then a cry of "Sabbac!" went up from the far end of the room, audible over the general roar. The voice was Schmitty's. Trix smirked and pointed. Zoom chuckled and pushed off from the bar again. He got to the table to see Schmitty pulling in the last scraps of the pot. The assortment of Regis crewers that he had been playing against looked disgusted or crestfallen, especially at having been beaten by a flyboy. A mischievous grin played across Zoom's face as he leaned in over the ring of onlookers, some of whom gave way when they saw who it was.

"Well, looks like this is your lucky day," Zoom congratulated Schmitty. "I have some more good news for you, Lieutenant Michadick."

Schmitty started to remind his CO that he was just a Flight Officer, but then he realized the true import of Zoom's statement. His mouth opened and stayed there for a second. His initial pleasure was quickly overtaken by the knowledge that his winnings wouldn't be his for much longer. The defeated crewers lost some of their gloom, heartily congratulating the new lieutenant as they stood up and started for the bar to claim their 'free' drinks.

[Ready Room, ISD Inquisitor]

Awlas sat in darkness, brooding. Ironically, his prospects were better than they had been in weeks. With the Empire in chaos, most of his superiors were now busy gathering allies and assets and consolidating their positions for the coming political struggle, with the Emperor's throne as the prize. As recently as a year ago, he might have been doing the same, but right now he was simply glad for the confusion. It would save him from having to suffer the consequences of his failure.

Failure. The word lay like a bitter pill upon his tongue, though he knew it wasn't his fault. He'd done everything correctly, recognized what Chew was trying to do, given the right orders, all by the book. Through incompetence and luck, the traitor and his Rebel friends had still eluded Awlas' wrath and escaped. And now to learn that the real battle had been fought, and lost, on the other side of the Galaxy in a system he had never heard of...

Awlas sighed, glancing at his desk terminal. Since the Emperor's death, the Holonet had been flooded with messages and orders from all corners of the Empire, many of them contradictory and some nearly hysterical. He scrolled through a few, scowling at the notice that some backwater called Bakura had joined the list of worlds now in open rebellion against the Empire. But the next scandoc made him blink and sit up straighter, for it was addressed to him personally and marked as "Eyes Only." He entered his encryption key and read the message.

My dearest Admiral: You may recall that we met at a reception on Coruscant, during the 20th Year Celebration. I have been following your career with some interest since then. It seems that you have lately landed yourself in, shall we say, hot water. I offer you a way out that would benefit both of us. Attached are orders relieving you of your current assignment and dispatching your fleet to my aid in the Escandar sector. They should appear quite genuine, but please consider this my personal request. I would have an officer of your proven talents and experience at my side in the present emergency. Your assistance will be duly rewarded. I await your reply. Moff Clovis Lemmor

So that's the way it is to be, eh? He'd been half-expecting such an offer, though he knew not from which quarter. Or what he would do when he got it.

Awlas looked out of the window at the remains of his fleet, now joined by the Vendetta. That made a total of three frigates and two Star Destroyers. It was a small force, but it would serve for this purpose. He let his mind drift back to his first command, the VSD Tretinoin. He had been young and ambitious then; in Senator Palpatine he had seen a quick route to power and influence. The Tretinoin had been his reward. But now his Emperor was dead, and he would have to choose a new master.

He felt the old ambition rising again. Yes, he would accept this offer from Moff Lemmor... and begin a new chapter of his life.

End